There's no such thing as the Boogeyman
by Sidetic
Summary: Pitch begins to recover from his defeat, and vows vengeance on the Guardian of Fun.


There's no such thing as the Boogeyman Sidetic Summary: Pitch begins to recover from his defeat, and vows vengeance on the Guardian of Fun. Notes: Author's notes: Hi again. I do not own Rise of the Guardians and any recognizable dialogue is from the film. Any offerings for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.  
I hope you like it.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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Chapter 1: Starting Again **Chapter Text**

There's no such thing as the Boogeyman

Chapter One- Starting Again

A shaking grey hand reached out of the darkness to scrabble at the stone floor above. It took far more effort than it should have done for a shadow to haul himself up and onto the solid surface. Pitch curled up into a ball, clutching his middle as though afraid he would come undone at the seams if he did not hold himself together.

He did not know how long it had been since his downfall, but the feeling of it still echoed through his very core. The child walking through him, stealing breath he shouldn't need and sending waves of ice and __disbelief__ through his whole body… The Nightmare King groaned, shuddering against his own bridge. Nausea rolled through him, an echo of his own distasteful fear needling him from the inside throughout his weakened form.

He was no longer believed in, banished beneath beds once more.

And, even more humiliatingly, his __own beautiful Nightmares __had been the ones to seal his defeat, to drag him, screaming and begging, down into his own domain in front of all his foes to torment __him__.

Silver eyes opened with a flash of rage, the Boogeyman's face hardened as he struggled to uncoil himself, an arm still around his stomach, pushing himself to a stand…

How dare they? How __dare __they?

He was their creator! He had given them their existence! And they presumed to turn his fears against him, to feed from __him__? Those treacherous cretins!

Gazing around him warily, he saw no trace of golden eyes in the gloom. Perhaps, they had grown bored of him for the moment, wished to find another meal, but he harboured no doubts they would return as they had done time and time again. Like rodents whom had escaped their cage but kept coming back to a promised food source. Although, it had been with decreasing frequency, and diminishing numbers... They must have been running afoul of the Guardians in their little excursions.

Well, he had no use for disobedient pets.

Looking up, the lights on the globe seemed to burn his eyes with their brightness, and he couldn't help but glance away from it. It was worse than starting from scratch. His power had waned back to the level it had been in the Guardians' Golden Age, perhaps even lower, and there was now a new cheery brat to contend with. One whom could stand toe to toe with him like the wretched Sandman.

He should have done a better job of killing the boy when they had refused him. What had he been thinking? Giving the staff back? Letting the sprite keep the teeth? How damn foolish.

Oh, the mistakes he had made in his arrogance!

One child and a single Guardian had undone him, tripped him at the finish line, because he had given them the ammunition to. He had shown weakness to that blasted boy! Had thought they would understand and want the same thing…

To be believed in, to have a trusted ally and a family to share the world with.

And, in return, he'd been rejected and his centre met with scorn.

A strangled sound of frustration echoed through his caves, sending shadows scurrying.

Chest heaving, the Boogeyman latched onto his fury as a life preserver offered to a drowning man. They would pay! All of them! He just needed to regain some strength… Just a few scraps of fear would be enough...

He looked up at the infinite darkness cushioning him from the outdoors, protecting him from further reprisal from the Big… Five. He would have to go outside at some point, even if it was just to a child's closet and back again.

If he stayed here…

Fists clenching, he threw himself into the shadows before he could change his mind and emerged out into the open. Well, somewhat. He had ventured from his home, but remained hidden from the view of the sky, out of sight in patches of shade. Slinking through the dark cautiously, the Nightmare King tried to gauge how long he had been confined to his lair.

Not much had obviously changed. The people wore similar clothing, the buildings looked much the same, the stars were all but as he had left them… Not much time had passed, but it had still been far too long.

Slipping up the side of a building and into a child's bedroom, Pitch kept a careful eye on the window. Just a little bit, nothing truly noticeable, and then he would leave. If he could reach, say, three children, he could then return to his lair feeling far more comfortable and begin getting his house in order.

Any of his __lovely __Nightmares that did remain would not do so for much longer.

His mere presence in the shadows of the bedroom was not now enough to unsettle its sleeping inhabitant, but he did not dare actually touch her dreams. He could not let the Guardians know he had returned, not while he was still so weak, and Sandy would be extra vigilant with his dream sand now. So, he settled for reaching out just a tendril of power, scarcely enough to send a shiver of unease down the young girl's spine; a brief feeling that something wasn't __quite __right. It was galling to admit even to himself that he could have done little more than that even if he had wanted to.

__There's no such thing as the Boogeyman.__

He took the offered crumb and swiftly left, taking the unnatural darkness with him, and allowing the girl's smile to return.

Avoiding the rest of the street's children, he moved on to those three roads over, and then again. He was mindful not to be greedy, not to overestimate himself. Two girls and one boy had given him a few choice morsels of dread before he returned to the relative safety of his lair. After he ensured that he had not been spotted, and that the used entrance retained the illusion of being undisturbed, Pitch settled on a ledge, feet dangling in the void.

It… did not hurt as badly as it had, not physically. It no longer felt as though he were about to be torn apart and scattered to the winds. Not today, tomorrow however…

Jack had reduced him to this; __knowing what it felt like, __that cold-hearted boy had condemned him back to this miserable existence and seemed to think it well deserved. Trapped on the edges and feeding on leftovers, never invited to sit at the table himself so that he could share in the feast the Guardians perpetually gorged themselves on. He had wanted them to feel like him, starved and vulnerable, rejected and banished… Weak. The Nightmare King had desperately wanted them to know what being powerless was like.

And they still wished it upon him.

__Frost…__

Hooves pattered innocuously forwards on stone.

Hatred bloomed within him, his scythe emerging in his hand in answer, and he turned with a violent swing, neatly decapitating the approaching Nightmare and freezing the cluster behind her in their tracks.

"Oh no, my pretties, no. You cannot take it back now." He grinned death at them, eyes strangely blank. "I will not forgive you."

They edged forward then darted backwards, unsure of themselves. Pitch struck thrice, ruthlessly preventing any escape and reducing them to particles of sand coating the floor of his home. Collapsing, energy he had gained that night expended, he reached out a hand to call the grains back to him and closed sickly, opaque eyes. The abrupt frailty took the satisfaction out of his vengeance. As the sand coiled apologetically around his hand and returned to him, the Nightmare King shivered out a pained sigh that he felt deep in his chest. Near-mindless animals… could hardly be blamed for indulging their hunger in prey staked out and cut open for them...

By cold hands and a smile brighter than sunlight.

A snarl more vicious than a monster from any child's nightmare wrenched its way from his throat.

He would tear fun from the skies and imprison it where no child would experience it again! He would remind it how it felt to be alone, and would offer no reprieve this time. He would destroy its hope and wonder, and make it rue the day it ever recovered its memories by making all its nightmares come true.

__I will __**__never __**__forgive you!__

Notes: Thank you for reading.


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